Strange Kind Of Love
by Sparks
Summary: It was a strange kind of love, and she sometimes wished it were different. Then she looked at him and wondered how she could ever want it to be different, because it was him, and how could she want it any differently?


Title: Strange Kind Of Love

Rating: K – suitable for all.

Notes: For Jillybean, to keep her going until Saturday and 'Dalek'! Loosely inspired by something Christopher Eccleston said about the love between the Doctor and Rose.

* * *

It was a strange kind of love, and she sometimes wished it were different. Then she looked at him and wondered how she could ever want it to be different, because it was him, and how could she want it any differently? 

Because he was home, and love, and desire, and she could never want it any different.

She'd been scared off several times. After he'd told her that he would one day regenerate into another body, she'd gone home for a few weeks. She'd stayed with her mum, watched telly all day and missed him more than she had ever believed she could miss anyone. Then the doorbell had rung, and he was there, looking worried and apologetic, and she'd flung her arms around him.

Another time they'd had an argument, a really bad one, and Rose had stormed off. They'd been parked in the middle of a city on an alien planet – she couldn't remember the name of it. It was smoggy and packed with aliens of all kinds, and she'd quickly lost track of where she was. She didn't care; she got a job in a bar and wasn't found by him for a week. He'd stumbled in, pale and haggard. His eyes had roamed the bar and alighted on her, and before she knew what had happened he was there in front of her, kissing her and apologising.

And now. She'd run off again – she'd left a note. She just needed some time to sort things out in her head, and there was no better place for it than here. This planet was beautiful and serene. She sat on a rock, her feet trailing in the pool of water. The waterfall thundered close by – far enough that she could hear herself think, but close enough to be a soothing background.

She was scared. Scared that he would regenerate, scared that he would leave her, scared that this love – this strange love – was _too_ strange, too mysterious. Too impossible to be real.

She was terrified that he wouldn't want the permanence of it. And it was permanent, now.

She'd been gone for three days, and he had yet to find her. That he would, she had no doubt. He always had so far. Even if he were angry with her, he wouldn't leave her here. He'd take her back to Earth if he was fed up of her.

But she hoped he wasn't. She didn't want to become her mother, trapped in a mundane existence, dreams forgotten among the drudgery of living and childrearing and bills. She refused to be like that.

She lay down, feet still in the water, and rested her hands on her abdomen. There was nothing there yet, but there would be soon enough.

It was such a strange love. It wasn't solid, nothing she could grasp hold of – or at least, it hadn't been until now. Now there was something she could point at. She could say look, this is because of our love.

She closed her eyes, letting the sounds wash over her. She was far enough from civilisation that no unnatural sounds protruded into her solitude. She was grateful for it. She'd needed to get away.

"Rose?"

Rose sat up, feeling disproportionately guilty. "Doctor." He was standing there, arms folded, looking at her with that horribly blank expression. "Hi."

"Hi?" he echoed. "Hi?" Anger flickered in his eyes, but only for a moment. "You disappear off for three days and that's all you can say?"

"I left a note," Rose excused, and slipped into the water. It was warm and caressing and she dipped under before looking back at him. "You can't tell me you didn't find it. I stuck it to the back of the door."

"I found it." He produced the crumpled piece of paper. "'Gone for a walk,'" he read. "'Back soon.'"

Rose shrugged. "Yeah."

"That's not a bloody note," he exploded. "That's what you say when you've gone down the shop for a bar of chocolate, not when you go wandering on a strange planet for three days!"

"It's safe," Rose said quietly. "You said so yourself. I've been staying at the lodge – they're really nice. I've been fine." She swam out a little further; the current buffeted her body.

"Rose, get out of there," he said, exasperated.

"Two heart beats," she said, seemingly randomly.

"What?" He frowned, confused.

"Two heart beats," Rose repeated, leaning back and floating in the water. "Did you know there's only a dozen sentient species that have two hearts? I looked it up."

The Doctor folded his arms again. "Yeah, I knew that. Why?" He looked her over. "You'll get a cold," he informed her. "And I'm not going to look after you when you do."

"It's warm, it's a hot spring," she told him, rolling her eyes. "I'm being careful." Under the water her hands crept to her abdomen again. "I…" She shook her head and ducked under the water.

The Doctor watched, waiting for her to surface. A minute went by, and he started to get anxious, but then she surfaced again, close to the bank, and climbed out. She draped a piece of material around herself, sarong-like, and approached him.

"I needed some time to think," she said softly. "It's…lot of stuff going on."

"You want to go home." He said it with such blank acceptance, and she started.

"No!" she exclaimed. "God, no, is that what you think?" He gave a shrug. "You are such an idiot," she said. "You think I could leave yo-" She stopped. "All this?" she finished instead. "All this travelling, all these things to see?"

He shrugged. "Others have."

She took a moment, weighing up the impact of the words she was about to say. "I wouldn't," she said at last. "Not now. I couldn't. Not…" She gave up on words and stepped close to him. She took his hand and placed it over her womb. "Not after this," she finished softly.

The Doctor looked at her, then down at their hands, then back up at her. His mouth hung open. "You – it – but – how?"

She gave a nervous giggle. "If you have to ask that…"

"No, but I – but you – "

Rose smiled. "Yeah. You. Me. Baby." She paused. She hadn't actually said it out loud yet. "I'm going to have a baby."

The Doctor gave a whoop and lifted her into his arms. She screeched and batted at his shoulders, but not with real purpose. He laughed, a sound that she heard far too rarely and never with such happiness and sheer joy as this.

"Leave off," she laughed after a few moments. "You'll make me sick!"

He stopped instantly. "Are you alright? Is the baby alright? Have you seen a doctor? Are there any problems with us being different? Are –"

"Shut up," she told him firmly, slipping her hand into his. "That's what I've been doing here. I'm fine, s'just a bit of morning sickness. The baby's fine, at least that's what they reckon."

He crushed her close to him. "Don't you ever worry me like that again, alright?" he said tightly. "'Specially not…not now."

"I can't promise that," Rose said slowly. She couldn't promise it, because that wasn't the way they were. There were no promises, and there were no guarantees, and there was no forever.

He looked at her keenly, then grinned. "I don't believe it," he confessed. "A baby. A child. Our child. Another Gallifreyan."

She looked away. "Not a proper one," she muttered. "Part human. I wish…"

"Don't," he said abruptly. "Don't wish to be anything but what you are, Rose Tyler, because I wouldn't have you any other way." She frowned faintly. "I wouldn't," he repeated. "Do you believe me?"

She smiled lopsidedly. "Never. Never trust a man who gives you the key to his place after three days."

"Technically, it was a year," he pointed out. "From your mum's perspective." He touched her stomach gently. "A child is growing in there," he realised. "Our child. Part of us."

She nodded. "S'a big adventure." She bit her lip. "Will…will that be okay?"

The Doctor frowned. "You thought it wouldn't be?"

She shrugged. "You said it yourself – you don't do domestic."

"There's a big difference between not doing domestic 'cos you don't like it, and not doing it because you don't think you'll ever have it," he said softly. "Rose…" He changed his mind about what he was going to say. "Let's go home," he suggested. "I got some chocolate somewhere…"

Rose smiled. "Alright, then," she agreed. "Let's go."

It was a strange kind of love, and she sometimes wished it were different. Then she looked at him and wondered how she could ever want it to be different, because it was him, and how could she want it any differently?

Because he was home, and love, and desire, and she could never want it any different.


End file.
